I was nibbling gently on her neck when she shuddered and mumbled my name, again; and I took that as my cue that it was time for the encore.And what an...encore!She continued to call out my name over and over as I brushed my lips over her neck, across her shoulders, and to the tops of her breasts and around them. Her tone would go up and down the scale and she would actually squeal my name when I would gently suck her skin."Oh, Uncle Bob, please?" she gasped as I ran my tongue up the inside of her. I refused to be therapeutic. I took my meds, but I didn’t do the work. I talked to my therapist when I wanted to and I rarely spoke in group. I called the art therapist a ‘fucking loony.’ As for Diana, she didn’t say much in group. Mostly, she read the newspaper. Sometimes she read a book during art therapy. She liked Jay McInerney. The staff didn’t know what to do with Glory. I mean, she wasn’t that much of a problem. Glory never ate though. Glory was supposed to eat. That was her goal. She. More

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